


always golden rocks to throw

by therealw



Series: girl!Mark 'verse [3]
Category: The Social Network (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Genderswap, Jealousy, Miscommunication, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Post Settlement, Post-Canon, Weddings, girl!Mark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 11:25:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5826886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealw/pseuds/therealw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Eduardo's plan was pretty much foolproof. He would attend the ceremony, politely converse with the guest sitting on his right during the first half of dinner and the one on his left during the second, just like his mother taught him, then have a glass of champagne and, as soon as Chris and Sean had finished their first dance as a married couple, get the hell out of there."</p><p>A second possible sequel to 'me who makes the monsters'</p>
            </blockquote>





	always golden rocks to throw

**Author's Note:**

> In my mind, this exists in the same universe as [me who makes the monsters](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5808640) (although it can be read entirely on its own), but is obviously not compatible with the other sequel, [with a golden ring of wisdom in my cave](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5826565). Title from Beirut.

Eduardo's plan was pretty much foolproof. He would attend the ceremony, politely converse with the guest sitting on his right during the first half of dinner and the one on his left during the second, just like his mother taught him, then have a glass of champagne and, as soon as Chris and Sean had finished their first dance as a married couple, get the hell out of there. As an added precaution, he had given his driver strict instructions to under no circumstances let the valets block his car, just in case he needed to make a hasty exit.

Yeah, a foolproof plan he had spent the entire trip to the Hamptons ensuring was indeed foolproof. Which, in retrospect, meant it was doomed to fail from the start.

 

::

 

Eduardo finds a seat in one of the last rows. In other circumstances, he could've been able to appreciate the view, or the way a soft sea breeze is swaying the canvas walls of the vast white tent, but right now there's only one thing he can focus on. Mark is wearing her hair up and a blue dress that someone else surely picked out for her. Eduardo would bet that she probably chose the color just so no one could trick her into unwittingly wearing fuchsia by pretending it was a tasteful shade of green instead. It's been a long time since Eduardo allowed himself to call her beautiful, even in his head, but he does admit that she looks... relaxed. And happy. Eduardo can't remember when he last saw her smiling in person. Suddenly, the music starts and Dustin nudges her towards her place in the front row.

Taking a deep breath, Eduardo reminds himself that he owes being here to Chris, who tracked him down at Harvard and refused to stop being his friend because of Mark, who took Eduardo out drinking when he needed it and never asked the thorny questions, but was always willing to listen to the answers if Eduardo started talking. Eduardo not only _owes_ Chris to be here today, he _wants_ to be. Despite everything.

 

::

 

"Congratulations!" Eduardo hugs Chris tightly. "I'm so happy for you," he adds and realizes he truly means it.

"Thank you so much for coming, Wardo," Chris says. "Really. I know it's not... I just want you to know I appreciate it. We both do," he adds, beaming at Sean.

A faint ache is grippping Eduardo's chest, but he forces himself to mirror their smiles. "That was quick, you've been married for twenty minutes and you've already succumbed to the we-talk!"

Chris swats playfully at Eduardo's arm as another guest walks up to greet the happy couple. Eduardo gives Chris and Sean a quick hug and makes his way towards the bar, where he bumps into Dustin.

"War- _do_! My man!"

"I see you got a head start on the open bar."

"Don't pretend, Wardo, you can't fool me, I know weddings make you all mushy inside, you big softie!"

"I saw you crying during the vows, Dustin."

"You have no proof!"

"No, but I'm sure the photographer could help with that."

"I take it back, weddings make you mean."

"Don't you have any unsuspecting vulnerable females to hit on?"

Dustin grins. "As a matter of fact, I do. Have fun, Wardo!"

Eduardo orders a double scotch he knows will be the first of many, and gets ready to continue succesfully avoiding Mark. He has already checked the seating plan and knows they are on opposites sides of the ballroom - Chris didn't get to be a big-shot PR for nothing.

 

::

 

Once the speeches are finally over (and honestly, why did Dustin bring flashcards if he was going to ad-lib and sniffle his way through his), Eduardo leaves his table and follows the rest of the guests, who have slowly started gathering around the dance floor. He spots Mark pretty much instantly, an instinct he hasn't yet ridden himself of and maybe never will. She's talking to another guest and smirking into her glass of champagne. Her I'm-genuinely-amused smirk, not her I'm-amused-by-your-stupidity smirk, so whatever that guy is telling her must be actually funny and interesting. And then he turns to point at something across the room and… well, _shit_. Hunter Preston, class of 02, member of the Fly and asshole extraordinaire. These days he runs Morgan's star tech fund, and his list of female-related scandals is about the size of the file the SEC keeps on him, but he's allowed to get away with both because no one can remember the last time he failed to beat the benchmark.

Yet another reason to avoid Mark like the plague, Eduardo decides as he grabs a fresh glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

An indeterminate amount of time and an even more indeterminate amount of liquor later, Eduardo's plan of leaving as soon as the first dance was over is officially a complete failure. Whenever he starts angling towards the exit, someone approaches him, and he's too polite (and after a certain point, his reflexes are too slow) to escape in time. He hasn't seen Mark in his peripheral vision for a while, and he catches himself wondering if she's still talking to Preston, if they left together, if they... he needs some fresh air.

When he walks out onto the garden overlooking the ocean, he immediately spots a familiar figure pacing back and forth as she harasses someone on the other end of her phone.

"Well, tell Dublin I don't give a fuck what time it is, get the whole staff out of bed and into the office until it's fixed," Mark snaps and hangs up. She stares at her iPhone for a long moment, as if it was responsible for whatever is wrong, and doesn't notice Eduardo until she turns around and starts walking back inside.

"Eduardo." Her tone is unreadable.

"Mark." Silence stretches awkwardly between them but neither seems inclined to move first. "Something wrong?" he finally asks, pointing at her phone.

"Just... there's an issue with the European servers, and they apparently think it can wait just because it's the middle of the night there," she says disdainfully, as if the mere idea offended her. It probably does.

Eduardo nods absently. "So. Hunter Preston." Huh. He's pretty sure he didn't mean to bring that up.

"What about him," Mark asks in that not-really-a-question way she has of asking.

"You're developing an interest in insider trading?"

"What?"

"It'd be huge for him, getting the scoop on when Facebook finally goes public ahead of anyone else."

"Just because you use market tips to get laid doesn’t mean other people have to resort to that."

"Hey, all I meant is that you shouldn't bother, female and willing are pretty much his only requirements. The willing part is probably optional on bad days."

She scoffs. "Why am I even surprised? Behold, the only Jewish saint, passing judgement on casual sex."

"Oh, so now it's my fault that you're attracted to sleazeballs?"

"Considering I dated _you_ , I'm not sure what to make of that comment."

Eduardo takes a step forward without knowing why. When he realizes what he's doing, he steps back and sighs. "Today's not... let's not argue. Not today."

"Weddings aren't Thanksgiving, Eduardo, people aren't forced to get along."

"No, but they should at least pretend to."

Mark half-shrugs, possibly in reluctant agreement. A long silence follows, but Eduardo can tell some of the previous tension has dissipated.

"I hate weddings, but even I can see how happy they are," Mark says suddenly. "It's vaguely disgusting."

Eduardo snorts. "Disgusting. Because marrying the love of your life is clearly a nauseating concept for you."

"That's not... I can understand the appeal. For other people."

"But not you?"

Mark doesn't answer, just purses her lips and looks away.

"Do you even… we could've had that, Mark." Eduardo would never be saying this if he hadn't had one (or ten) too many, but he's always wondered if Mark _knew_. "Do you even realize? It could've been us.” He points in the general direction of the party. Mark follows his hand and stares at the dancefloor, expression completely blank.

She opens her mouth but seems to think better of it and closes it again.

"This was a bad idea," Eduardo says, finally. "I'm gonna say goodbye to Chris."

 

::

 

Chris is surrounded by a group of silver-haired ladies cooing at him, and it's obvious they're not planning on letting him go for a while. Eduardo decides to kill time ordering another drink. The party is still in full swing and it would probably take him ages to get a waiter to even _see_ him through the crowd at the main bar, it's so packed, so he makes a detour towards the more quiet one in the adjacent room that's decorated like a library. He's leaning against one of the mahogany-covered walls when someone slides up to him.

"Hey, Saverin!" Hunter says, raising his glass in Eduardo's direction. "Long time no see!"

"Preston. Still making Silver Lake sweat, I hear."

"Yeah, well. You know me, if you don't enjoy the risk, what's the point of being in this business, right?"

Eduardo answers with a frosty smile.

"Oh, speaking of risks, any tips on a certain Miss Zuckerberg?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, it's kind of the worst-kept secret in the Valley, that the two of you used to be an item."

Eduardo clenches his jaw. "I'm not sure how that's any of your business."

"Oh, c'mon, Saverin, I didn't mean to insult you! If anything, I should be worshipping at your feet, man, you gotta tell me your secret, because getting that ice bitch to spread her le-" Whatever the rest of his sentence may have been, they'll never know, because it's interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a fist making contact. It takes Eduardo a second to realize it was _him_ who made it. Preston is clutching the side of his jaw, eyes wide as saucers staring at Eduardo, who's watching him back as if he still couldn't comprehend what just happened.

His first coherent thought is that he's really glad he chose this bar for his drink, as it's pretty much deserted and the only other occupants are a couple clearly more interested in each other's tonsils than in their little show. The barman is narrowing his eyes at him, probably pondering whether or not to call for someone else. Eduardo's second coherent thought is that he has to get out of there right the fuck now.

He walks as fast as he can without actually running, eyes trained on the floor. He bumps into someone and, when he looks up to apologize, he realizes it's Dustin.

"Wardo, are you okay?"

"Dustin, I... oh, God. Please tell Chris I'm so sorry, that I honestly don't know what came over me, I swear, I just..."

"Whoa, whoa! What are you talking about? What happened?"

"I punched Mark's date."

Dustin's eyebrows are halfway up his forehead at this point. "Wait, Mark's _date_? But she didn't-"

"Hunter Preston?"

" _Oh_."

"Yes."

"And you _punched_ him?"

"Jesus, Chris is gonna _kill_ me."

"Wardo, Chris _knows_ you. And so do I, okay? I'm sure he deserved it, he seems like kind of a douchebag."

"Yeah, drop the 'kind of'." He runs a hand though his hair. "Look, I really should be going."

"I get it, man. And don't worry, I'll talk to Chris."

"Thank you, Dustin. You're a good friend."

"Yeah, yeah, just go. I'll call you."

Eduardo smiles gratefully and rushes out to the street. Tonight's clearly not his night, because there's a ridiculously huge white limo blocking his car.

"Mr. Saverin!" His driver trots over, looking apologetic. "I swear, I left for two minutes and it was there when I got back! I'm so sorry, Sir, I didn't expect to-"

"I don't care, just get someone to move it. _Now_."

"Yes, Sir, right away."

Eduardo wipes a hand over his face. When did this night go to hell? He'll have to donate half his fortune to Chris' causes to make up for the stunt he just pulled. He can't even remember the last time he got in a fight, no, actually, he _knows_ it was in high school. Tonight's was maybe the third punch he's thrown in his life.

He hears hurried steps behind him. "Wow, that was quick." But when he turns around, he doesn't see his driver.

"You _punched_ him?" Mark looks furious. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry my inconvenient display of human emotion _bothers_ you, Mark. Why don't you do the same thing you always did and fucking ignore it? We both know how good you're at that."

"Oh my God, you haven't changed one bit, it's still _all about you_!"

"All ab- are you fucking kidding me? I came even though I knew you'd be here, because Chris is a good friend a good man and he _deserves_ it, okay? If I'd made it about me, I never would've shown up anywhere I knew I'd be forced to look you in the face!"

"For Christ's sake, Wardo, move the fuck on! Quit acting like a lovesick fool, will you? It stopped being cute years ago, now it's just pathetic."

Sometimes, Eduardo wishes Mark was a guy so he could punch her. This is one of those times. Mark's left eye is twitching, which means she's aware she's gone too far, even though she'd rather die than back down.

"Mr. Saverin?" Eduardo is so startled by the interruption it takes him a moment to recognize his driver. "We've moved the car blocking the way. Whenever you're ready to leave?"

He shakes his head to clear it. "Yes. Yes, I'm ready," he says and starts walking towards his car without sparing Mark another glance.

 

::

 

Eduardo seriously considers telling the driver to turn around and hightail it all the way to New York instead of taking him back to his hotel, but it's late and he's more than half-drunk, and the need to crawl into bed within the next ten minutes is even greater than the need to put as much distance between him and Mark as he possibly can.

The car slows down and he spots the illuminated mill the hotel is built around. How quaint. His assistant had booked one of the small cottages left of the main building. "For extra privacy," she had said. She was uncannily efficient at times.

He feels too drunk to sleep, so he decides to sober up with a long, scalding shower. It works well enough that when he finally pulls on his pajama bottoms and crawls into bed, he manages to fall into a semi-conscious state.

 

::

 

A steady pounding on his door wakes Eduardo up. At first he has no idea where he is, but the pounding persists so he drags himself out of bed.

"Coming! Coming! What the-"

"Hi."

Mark is still wearing the blue dress, but the elaborate bun from before is half-undone, a few rebellious curls framing her face. For the first time in years, Eduardo lets himself look, _really_ look at her, taking in the curve of her bare shoulders, the swell of her breasts, that little mole on her neck that... he looks up sharply to find Mark staring back at him, amused.

"Looked your fill yet?"

"Sorry. You're... that's a great dress."

"My assistant bought it for me. I told her I didn't care as long as it wasn't pink."

Eduardo laughs to himself.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just... you look..." He pauses. "You look great in it." He wonders where his extensive vocabulary went to.

Mark tilts her head to the side, as if trying to parse his words in search of a hidden meaning. "Aren't you gonna invite me in?"

Eduardo steps back and Mark pads in, her heels dangling from one hand as the other bundles the hem of the dress to avoid tripping on it. She inspects the room with that unblinking gaze of hers until her eyes come to rest on Eduardo. He has a nagging feeling that this is the kind of conversation one should be fully dressed for. Or, at the very least, wearing shoes.

"You know," Mark begins, "all those years ago, I used to tell myself the reason you didn't actually punch Sean was because... because you didn't have it in you."

"Thank you, Mark, please continue to retroactively undervalue me."

She makes an impatient hand gesture. "That's not... back then I used to tell myself a lot of things that... it helped, okay? It made it easier. But tonight... why didn't you punch Sean that day, Wardo?"

"He just wasn't worth it."

"Oh, and Hunter was?"

He fixes her with an intense stare. "No. Not Hunter."

There's a dull thump when her shoes hit the carpet, and then Mark starts advancing towards him and stops only when there are barely inches between them. She rests her hands against his chest for leverage and moves to stand on her toes.

"You should get that white knight complex looked at," she whispers against Eduardo's lips. And kisses him.

Eduardo's hands immediately come up to her neck, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. He knows, in some distant part of his brain, that this is a bad idea, that he shouldn't, that he can't, but it's been _so long_ and Mark is so warm and her hands are roaming his back as if she wanted to climb him and... _God_. She even smells exactly the same, and he's only human.

Eduardo breaks the kiss and starts dragging his lips across her jaw, down her neck and all the way to her shoulders only to make his way back until he finds that tiny mole at the base of her neck, right over the end of her collarbone, that he used to think of as _his_. Mark makes a low, keening sound when he darts out his tongue to trace it, and Eduardo is suddenly reminded that it's real. This is _really_ Mark, here with him.

It all becomes a blur, after that. Mark can't figure out the intricate zipper on the back of her dress but bats Eduardo's hand away when he tries to help her. They stumble towards the bed, still kissing, and it's exactly like Eduardo remembered and it's nothing like Eduardo remembered and then he stops remembering altogether because everything becomes _Mark_.

 

::

 

They're lying side by side on the bed, their breathing slowly steadying, when out of the blue, Mark breaks the silence. "I _do_ realize, you know," she whispers.

"Hmn?"

"That we could've had that."

It takes Eduardo a second to catch on. "Oh."

"And I don't do regrets, but if I did..." She rolls on top of Eduardo, propping her chin on his chest. "If I did, that would be at the top of my list."

Eduardo brushes her hair from her face and smiles sadly.

"And I shouldn't have said that about you still... do you know why it bothers me so much?" Eduardo shakes his head. "Because it would be easier if I knew you hated me, or if you just had stopped caring."

"Mark..."

Mark moves to kneel on the bed, the sheet wrapped loosely around her. "Out of morbid curiosity, what did Hunter say, anyway?"

Eduardo shifts and rearranges the pillow as he ponders what to tell her. "Nothing _too_ terrible, I guess. I mean, for his standards. He's kind of an asshole."

Mark snorts.

"I just don't think," he continues, "I don't think there will ever be a time when I won't want to punch any guy who... well."

Mark looks down at her lap for a moment, and then leans over to press her lips softly against his.

"Are you happy, Wardo?" she asks after a long silence.

It's such a strange question, even stranger coming from Mark. "I don't know. Sometimes."

"And you don't think you should do better than that?"

"Are _you_ happy, Mark?"

"Sometimes. And you didn't answer my question."

"The truth is, I'm not sure there _is_ anything better."

"A long time ago we were pretty good at making each other happy."

"We're scaringly good at making each other miserable, too."

"Is that how you remember it?"

Eduardo sighs. "I remember... I remember that we fucked it up beyond repair."

" _We_?"

"Yeah, we. I stopped blaming you for everything years ago."

Mark doesn't reply, but she scoots even closer until her face is resting against the crook of Eduardo's neck and he can feel the rhythmic puffs of air every time she exhales.

"These days I find it hard to remember the bad parts," she says softly.

"When did you become such an optimist?"

"You and Chris left me alone with Dustin, it was a plausible risk."

He smiles and kisses the top of her head.

"Don't you think..." she trails off, then takes a deep breath. "Don't you think we could maybe... try again?"

"Mark, we've been here before."

"No, we haven't. We're older now and-"

" _Mark_."

Eduardo rolls on top of her, bracing himself on his elbows. "Do you mean it?"

Mark nods and tilts her head up for a brief kiss. Eduardo hangs his head and lets out a deep sigh, and they both know she's won.

"It's not gonna be easy, you know," he finally says.

"Easy is for other people, Wardo."

 

::

 

A sunny Saturday morning two years later, Hunter Preston wakes up to the news of Eduardo Saverin's engagement in the Times, and to a carefully gift-wrapped box that turns out to contain a bottle of 1961 Château Lafite. And a note.

_Thank you for being such an asshole.  
MZ_

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for [this prompt](http://tsn-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/6467.html?thread=11577411#t11577411): _I just want a girl!Mark fic that has a jealous!Wardo, post-depositions. Like maybe in a gala, or Chris' wedding, or something and it's Eduardo's first time to see Mark wearing a dress. A fitted one at that. And she has a date, maybe, or someone is chatting her up and she's nodding and smiling back. Wardo sort of just angsts about it and confronts Mark meanly~ about it._


End file.
